Thrown In Jail With Mad Marge

I was not the culprit this time, but no one believed or could see. Since I had done it six months earlier, no one wanted to believe me. I was not guilty, this time it was not my play. I was innocent in every kind of way. The charges were trumped up, and totally untrue. However, promptly assumed totally guilty by all of them but two. No way it was me; not my mess this time, not my doing. They dressed me in a suit and a shirt fresh white from blue-ing. It was a frame job, I was not the devil child this time. They gave me tight looks and frowns from all but Juror number nine. I was locked into a jail cell with Mad Marge who had made it a kind of home. If I ever get released, you can bet I will write her up into an interesting poem.